


Autumnal Desires

by sequence_fairy



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 18:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13347207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: Rainy days make him want to bundle Rose into bed and never let her out.





	Autumnal Desires

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HiddenTreasures](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenTreasures/gifts).



> Written for a tumblr prompt.

There’s something about the way a rainy day feels. Especially in the fall, when the air is chilled and the flat is warm and the windows fog up, obscuring the grey day outside. It makes him want to bundle Rose into bed and never let her out. 

Rose hums as she stirs the pot on the stove, and shimmies her hips to the song on the radio. The kitchen is brightly lit, and redolent with the fragrance of chicken soup. The Doctor watches her from the doorway, leaning on the jamb. 

“You could come in and help,” Rose looks at him over her shoulder, and her teasing grin sends all his blood rushing southward. He’s not going to get over how quickly he goes from zero to sixty in this body, one minute he’s mildly interested and then she does that thing where she smiles with her tongue and he’s straining against his zip and she’s laughing, watching him. 

“You could come and help me,” he counters, and Rose cocks her head to one side like she’s taking the time to consider what he’s asking her. He can see in her eyes that she’s already decided, and he’s itching to get her out of the flannel plaid shirt that she’s wearing, half-buttoned, over leggings that hug her shapely legs. 

Very deliberately, she reaches and turns the burner down and sets the lid over the pot, before she walks across the kitchen to him, hips swaying. She’s turning it on, all the way to eleven, and he has to shut his mouth with a click of teeth. She reaches the doorway and backs him up against the doorjamb, lifting herself up on her toes to kiss him. 

The kiss is hard, and hungry and the warmth of it spreads to the bottoms of his feet. His hands are in her hair, and when she pulls away, he whimpers. Rose grins, the kind of grin that’s full of filthy promise and the Doctor’s stomach flips with anticipation. She kisses a path down the side of his neck, teeth and tongue worrying the join of neck and shoulder, leaving what he’s sure will be a bruise. 

She works on his belt, tugging it open and undoing his fly. He lifts her face back to his, and kisses her again, hands coming up to clutch at her hips. She’s freeing him from his pants, and he hisses in a breath when she gets her hands around him. He hears the low sound she makes in the back of her throat as his hands come up to cup her breasts, and he has only a moment to realize what she’s got planned before she’s on her knees in front of him, swallowing him down. 

He drops his head back with a groan, and it thunks against the wall. Rose hums appreciatively as his hands sink into her hair again. The Doctor loses himself in the feel of her mouth; the wet heat of her makes him quiver and the vision of her looking up at him from her knees, eyes half-lidded and pupils dark is enough to send him over the edge. He comes with her name on his lips. 

“Christ, Rose,” he says, when he gets his breath back. She’s standing in front of him, looking for all the world like the cat who swallowed the canary and he scrubs a hand over his face. If possible, the grin turns more smug and she licks her lips. 

“I’ll be waiting,” she says, as she saunters off down the hall, towards the bedroom. The Doctor stands still for five seconds before tearing after her, holding his pants up so as not to trip over them. 

He tumbles her into bed, tugging the leggings and her knickers off as he does. 

“My turn,” he growls, and Rose arches under him. He makes short work of the rest of their clothes and soon she’s naked before him. He takes his time taking her apart, listening to her cries to tell when she’s getting close and backing off only to wind her tighter and tighter. He loves doing this; mouth and hands working in tandem to get Rose off. He has an aural catalog of all the sounds she makes, and the ones she makes when he’s three fingers deep and she’s writhing under the arm he’s thrown over her hips are his favourite. 

She’s desperate, begging, his name a litany on her lips when he finally let’s her go, and when she comes, she clenches around his hand, and her thighs close around his ears so tightly, that for a moment he sees nothing at all. He soothes her through the aftershocks, and when she’s finally still, he looks up along her body. 

“Oh you,” she husks, breathless and sated. The Doctor grins, and he knows it’s a carbon copy of the one she gave him earlier in the hall and she swats at his head half-heartedly. 

“Get up here,” she says, and he complies, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as he goes. He kisses her again, and she shifts beneath him, lining them up so he can slip inside with ease. 

They both stop moving, and he looks her in the eye. He can hear the wind and the rain outside, but here in the bedroom, it’s warmth and the love that is shining out of her eyes could overcome any storm and when he starts to move, all he can hear is Rose. 

She matches him, thrust for thrust, both of them racing to the edge. She grips his shoulders, and kisses him fiercely. They move together, and suddenly, he’s there, and Rose is clenching around him and he’s gone over, and they are gone together. 

Much later, they eat the chicken soup. 


End file.
